


Rock You Like A Hurricane

by DemonDeepFried



Series: New Recruit [1]
Category: Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (because he deserved to), Avengers Tower, Chronology, Element Powers, F/F, F/M, Lifting Hammer, Lifting Thor's Hammer, Non-Chronological, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Reader Has Powers, Reader-Insert, Stark Tower, Stark's Party, Tony Stark's Party, sort of, what chronology?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDeepFried/pseuds/DemonDeepFried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everyone,” Coulson announced, directing the room’s attention to himself and the new face stood somewhat behind him, “I’d like to introduce you to our newest recruit, Y/N. Or you may know her as Y/SH/N.”<br/>A bubbling murmur erupted around the Agents of SHIELD present, as well as the Avengers lounging in the chairs in the corner.<br/>Of course they would know you by Y/SH/N.<br/>Everyone did.</p><p>You are the Avengers’ latest recruit, with the power to harness and control the elements. But at one of Stark’s famous parties, the team and you find out that that’s not all you can do…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock You Like A Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> Y/SH/N = Your Superhero Name (because I'm making it a thing now)

“Everyone,” Coulson announced, directing the room’s attention to himself and the new face stood somewhat behind him, “I’d like to introduce you to our newest recruit, Y/N. Or you may know her as Y/SH/N.”

A bubbling murmur erupted around the Agents of SHIELD present, as well as the Avengers lounging in the chairs in the corner.

Of course they would know you by Y/SH/N.

Everyone did.

You were the woman who’s - _masked_ \- face was plastered all over the news after the miraculous foiling of a terrorist plot to bomb New York. (Why was it always New York to take the hits?) Having used your elemental powers to tear the entire ground apart, destroying the bomb, you trapped the bombers in a ring of fire and, while you weren’t so proud of it - _ok, you were a little proud_ -, you burnt them to death before they could be arrested and get away again.

“Y/SH/N,” somebody said to your left. Turning your saw a black man, muscular and dressed officially in all-black, examining you with the eye that wasn’t hidden behind a black patch. “I’m glad to see you agreed to join the Avengers Initiative.”

“I wasn’t given a choice,” you grumbled, shooting a dark look at Agent Coulson- the man who had shot you with a dart gun before you could fly away from him and his team of agents, after refusing his offer of joining.

Ignoring your remark, he continued, “I’m Agent Nick Fury, and if you’d care to join me, I’ll introduce to the rest of the Avengers.”

With a terse nod, you followed him to the small lounge area where the Avengers sat on plush sofas and chairs, chatting and watching a news programme of the television.

Going around each of them, Fury gestured with one hand to each Avenger, “Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man- our most renowned engineer.” A shorter than average brunet with exceptionally well-groomed facial hair and a quirk to his lips that said ’ _I know’_.

“Steve Rogers or Captain America was the first avenger, having been woken from being frozen for over seventy years.” Tall and handsome in an _‘I will mother you and tell you off for bad language_ ’ kind of way; either the early 20th century had the most incredible gene pool or ice actually works wonders.

“Agent Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. Agent Romanov is one of our best agents at SHIELD.” An insanely attractive young woman with hair the colour of fire, eyes the colour of jaded hazel leaves and body language that screamed _'MATRIARCH!’_ combined humorously with the facial expression that hissed, _'but they don’t know it yet._ ’

“Pietro Maximoff-" 

"Quicksilver!” you cut in, clapping your hands excitedly when you realised where you recognised his face from, before remembering the situation and steadily cleaning up your poker face, mumbling, “I do pay attention to some of the news…”

Nodding reservedly, Fury continued, “Umm, yes, Quicksilver. Certainly our…fastest…member of the team.” Silver hair that flowed in slightly ruffled locks to his chin, and piercing ice blue eyes- while impressed you could recall at least one avenger from the news roll, it was less satisfying when the sole reason was because you remembered how hot he looked in that silvery blur.

Vaguely, you thought, _I wonder if he’s that quick at everything he does…_

“His twin sister, Wanda Maximoff: The Scarlet Witch.” _Kudos to the parents who could make those two_. She had long flowing mahogany-toned hair and wore a tight-fitting red leather jacket with a short black skirt, the attractive ensemble making it hard to draw up comprehensive thought.

“Clint Barton, the best shot on the team- more commonly known as Hawkeye.” _So that was the dude with arrows._ He looked more smug than he did on the few distance shots papers had managed to get, with cropped fair hair and sunglasses (who the hell wears sunglasses inside if they’re not blind?) and the distinct impression of desiring to be _anywhere_ else.

“Thor, a god from the world Asgard-”

“I’m– not even gonna ask,” you dismissed, stopping the inevitable long explanation with a wave of your hand.

From where he sat to your right, Stark advised, “Probably best.”

“As I was _saying_ ,” Fury emphasised, “You may recognise him from the legends, and…so forth…” The man in question was unmistakably a god. Locks that seemed to glow gold, eyes that seemed to gleam with the stars and a smile that managed to undermime every ounce of authority in the room. Save for Fury and Black Widow, of course, but then Thor didn’t look like he understood politics much.

“And finally, this is Dr Bruce Banner-”

“Oh my god, Dr Banner,” you exclaimed, cutting Fury off - _again_ -, “I read you last thesis on human biology combined with artificial genetics compared to natural mutation!”

The doctor seemed to swell with a newfound adoration then. “You did?” he breathed, standing and coming over to you, fixing his glasses. “And what did you think?”

“I found it fascinating!” you told him, in a way that had an underlying tone of _'of course_ ’. “Did you happen to see Professor Xavier’s responding evaluation and experimentation?”

“I did! You were the primary resource, weren’t you?” he smiled, delighted to be discussing his field with someone who didn’t have the snark of a hormonal teenager and the moral range of a teaspoon ( _mentioning no names, **cough** Tony **cough**.)_

Nodding animatedly, you responded, “Yeah! Well he wanted another mutant to test his theory of internal genetic exploitation; he used himself of course, as the first subject, but there’s only so far telepathy can withstand external experiments and still prove results.”

Bobbing his head with you, Banner agreed, “Yes, yeah, I mean I still find the mutant world fascinating but it seems as though the rest of this world isn’t as keen at the minute- especially with Magneto’s political actions as of late.”

“Exactly,” you replied, folding your arms and bracing yourself for a deep delve into decent conversation, “Charles’ papers can only hypothesise so much before he has to more publicly reveal himself for them to prove sense. And, you’re absolutely right, whatever Charles says, the world just won’t be ready for us just yet. But the results were ever so intriguing, don’t you agree?”

“Incredible,” Banner nodded, his grin widening yet further. “You know if we were to enhance the DNA strands further within the gene pool and incredulate more of the mutated genetic code into the blood transfusion of relative generations, then we might just be able to devise a way to  _predict_  mutant births.”

“ _I know_!” you beamed, ecstatic that someone finally spoke _science_ around here.

A pointed cough interrupted the two of you, and you turned to see Clint roll his head back onto the back of the sofa and mutter, “Fantastic, another science geek.”

* * *

It was Pietro who showed you to your room that night. Along an infinite corridor dotted with infrequent doors. He pointed out which one was his- it was two down from yours and splattered with a suspicious blue paint stain- so you could tell where to turn the corner.

“Here’s your room,” he told you, gesturing with his palm to the door labelled only with crusted bronze numbers reading '403’. "You sure you don’t have any other luggage?“

Looking down at your small shoulder bag clutched to your side- the only item you had on you, bar its contents- you smiled up at him and said, "No, this is it, thanks.”

“Not a problem. Need anything, just shout,” he told you warmly, adding with a wink, “I’ll be there before you can finish.”

Truth be told, when Quicksilver vanishes, he literally does so in the blink of an eye.

Chuckling quietly to yourself, you enter your room and settle your small bag of belongings on your bed. Inside you had managed to cram in enough underwear and changes of clothes to survive before you could find a shopping mall; the bare toiletry essentials (somehow you suspected they already had it all here in the Avengers Tower- formerly Stark Tower); your mask and costume- significantly less glamorous than it sounded; $3000 in cash; and a battered copy of ’ _The Hobbit’_.

A quick change out of your jeans and shirt, left you in sleep shorts and a tank top. When you climbed into the king-sized bed, you practically _mewled_.

It was obvious Peppa had designed the rooms.

First of all, they were both spacious, yet useful of every counter surface. Your room was massive and one wall was completely compiled of floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the midnight shadow-clad city.

Secondly, no luxury was absent, but no expense appeared to have been lost. The king-sized bed ( _who are you kidding, this was a freaking god-sized bed_ ) was exquisitely bedded with Egyptian cotton covers and a thousand matching pillows– _mental note: build pillow fort later._ In the bathroom, you had almost swooned at the sight of the in-built bath with all manner of bubbles, fizzies and hot squirty things- deciding that it would actually be possible to fit a football team in there. Even the toilet made your arse feel like it had never had a proper shit until now.

Thirdly, there was a separate dressing room that was already completely filled with clothes that, on closer inspection, were all your size. _God bless that woman,_ you thought, vowing to send Peppa Potts some flowers. Or maybe an entire garden. Your powers included flora, you could make that happen.

The floor was carpeted plushly while the bathroom was fitted with blue stone tile; the walls were decorated in a manner that satisfied both modern and rustic taste, and you made a verbal promise to the large plasma TV, embedded in the wall opposite your bed, that you would marathon some movies on there- purely for the sake of being able to use it.

Snugly tucked into the Sacred Bed of All-Things-Comfort, you fell into the dreamy world of slumber as soon as your eyes slipped shut.

* * *

The next morning woke you to the alluring smell of pancakes and you followed your nose to s small kitchen in the Avengers lounge- a larger area than yesterday.

You were still in your pyjamas but plus one sweatshirt too big, though it seemed half of the team was too.

Pietro wore only boxer shorts and a grey shirt; Tony was donning an old _Black Sabbath_ shirt with sweatpants and a rocking case of bedhead; Banner, it seemed, had already vacated to his lab; Steve, Wanda and Natasha were looking more dignified, dressed for the day; Clint was wearing a sweater and jeans, snoozing over a bowl of cereal; and Thor was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Tony greeted you cheerfully, earning himself a low growl. “Did you just _growl_ at me?” he asked, a mixed look of amusement and apprehension on his face.

“I’m not a morning person,” you explained briefly, slumping down into one of the chairs surrounding the table. “Pancakes…”

Dutifully, Wanda plopped two on your plate, with a smile to which you returned gratefully.

“So, I’ve been reading your files,” Tony went on, sitting beside you, “and you’re a mutant? Like Pietro and Wanda?”

“Yup,” you mumbled aro0und a mouthful of pancake and syrup.

“But what I don’t get is what are your powers exactly? I mean I saw what you did with the terrorists, but nobody actually seems to have written down what you can do,” he went on.

Fixing him with a weary look, you told him, “I control the elements. In short. There’s a buttload of stuff I can do because of that, but that’s the nickel.”

Everyone had gone quiet by now and was listening to you.

“Can you show us?” Natasha asked, coming over to you and leaning against your chair, “I’d love to see that.”

Accepting her challenge, you drew your hand up and everybody watched as first a small flame appeared, which then twisted and trickled into a large droplet of water. The drop spun and twisted until it was a small tornado in your palm, then it calmed and enclosed, revealing a tiny flowered plant.

“That’s beautiful,” Natasha whispered, reaching forward to stroke the purple petals. “You’re incredible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, never having been one to take compliments well but appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Hey,” she added, “You know what would be a great idea? If you came to Stark’s party tonight.”

Raising an incredulous brow, you replied, “Party?”

“Yeah, you must have heard of his parties,” she carried on.

“They’re legendary,” Tony, himself, finished.

“Sure,” you mused, arching your eyebrows and adding, “Are you sure I’d be welcome? I mean I only got here yesterday and I barely know anyone here…”

Steve came over and sat opposite you, a steaming mug in his hands. “Of course you would,” he assured you, fixing your gaze with those warm blues of his, “And it would be an excellent opportunity for you to _get_ to know everyone here.”

Smiling more confidently, you nodded and said, “Alright then, sounds fun.”

Wanda squealed in glee and Natasha grinned, informing you, “Fantastic, we’ll get your outfit sorted out.”

* * *

The party was aptly labelled 'legendary’.

Expensive food weighed down tables and there was alcohol everywhere. Everyone was wearing elegant clothing that made you cringe at the price and every face seemed to have been on the news at some point or other.

You were officially out of your depth.

“How are you enjoying the celebration?” Thor’s deep booming voice came behind you.

Turning to shoot him a small smile, you said, “Umm, its alright. I feel a little under-named though. I mean, that’s George Thomas, isn’t it? And Scarlet Riverdale, oh gods, why did I come tonight? This is a famous people party, I’m not a famous people! I’m a…a…a _people_ people.”

Thor chuckled at you in amusement and took your arm, leading you over to where the rest of the gang sat in a small circle on various white leather sofas and chairs. “Here,” he told you, sitting you down on one of the loveseats, “you certainly are not just a 'people people’, you are an Avenger now. And besides, I give you my word that there is not a soul present who has not heard of Y/SH/N.”

Blowing a small raspberry at that comment, you slipped your phone out of your purse to check the time (11:09PM), your messages ((1) from the guy you got talking to at that bar; (2) from your sister) and for any information from Hank- the computer mastermind who scanned the world for any threatening activity and reported it to you to sort out if there was.

The Norse God walked around the glass coffee table in the middle of the group, placing his hammer on it as he went, and fell into a vacant seat.

“ _'Whosoever, be he worthy, shall have the power’_ , whatever man! It’s a trick!” Barton scoffed from his place on the floor, playing drunkenly with two drumsticks- _gods know where he got those from_.

With a shrug, Thor replied nonchalantly, “It is more than a trick, my friend. But please, be my guest.”

“Really?” Clint asked, getting to his feet and heading over to the table where the hammer sat.

“Now, Clint, you’ve had a tough week, we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up,” Tony assured him unhelpfully.

Placing a hand on the handle, the archer nodded towards the god and said, “You know I’ve seen this before, right?” But when he put any effort in, he grunted and strained himself, giving up and laughing, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Silent judgement,” Stark said deadpan, to which Clint motioned towards the hammer and encouraged his own attempt.

As the engineer stood up, fixing his suit jacket and the group mumbled an assortments of ’ _ooh_ ’s and ’ _ah_ ’s and ’ _uh oh_ ’s. “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge,” he admitted, the smugness and confidence literally dripping off him. “It’s physics,” he declared, sliding his wrist into the strap and taking hold of the handle, “If I lift it, do I get to rule Asgard?”

“Yes, of course,” Thor told him, already smiling.

Readying himself to take the strain of the _'almighty’_ hammer, Stark nodded, “I will be fair, but firmly cruel.”

“No, I’m sure,” Thor grinned.

This went on for some time, the rest of the group each taking it in turns to try and shift the hammer, each to no avail. When it came to you, you kindly turned the offer down- _you didn’t need to know your worthiness, thank you very much_.

The night went on very much the same, partying, drinking and laughing. Around one o'clock in the morning, you decided that you were tipsy enough to start enjoying yourself and began joining in in some of the discussions and jokes.

At 2 o'clock, Thor declared, “Right, well, Jane and I are to be spending the day together tomorrow and I need my rest, so I bid you goodnight,” striding off in the direction of the door. At that point, everyone else agreed to head off to bed as well.

Bidding your friends good night, you went to grab your purse, going to tug it from the table when you saw that the strap was underneath the weight of Thor’s hammer. Without thinking, you lifted the hammer up and moved it the other end of the table and flipped the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Night,” you called before skipping off to the door.

Missing the identical expressions of confusion plastered on every Avenger’s face.

It was Pietro to break the silence, with the only word that was going through any of their minds.

“ _What_?”


End file.
